Technical proficiency is no substitute for a good yarn, and whatever else the CKS Cultural Foundation’s flagship production of Mackay — The Black Bearded Bible Man (黑鬚馬偕) that premiered at the National Theater this weekend may be, it never develops into a gripping story. Rather than an amazed meander through the bizarre coincidences that made a Presbyterian missionary from Canada a cultural icon of Taiwan’s development, it plods through the main events of George Leslie Mackay’s life with the humorless determination of a schoolteacher preparing students for an exam.
The profoundly constricted conception of what can only be described as a hagiography of Mackay undermines every other quality of the production. That Mackay dedicated his life to Taiwan and was a conscientious missionary is an undisputed fact, and that he loved Taiwan and its people is more than probable, but these points are labored to the exclusion of virtually all other ideas, unnecessarily underscoring an ideological motivation for the creation of this opera. Mackay emerges as a cardboard cutout, and while the opera follows him quite literally from birth to death, this presentation of his life achieves neither operatic grandeur nor emotional depth. His reflections on the beauty of Taiwan seemed to have been cribbed from some of the more egregious publicity material published by the Government Information Office for the consumption of tourists. Even an extended scene in which Mackay comes into conflict with local temples over his medical and religious practices is bland, and one cannot get away from the suspicion that all rough edges have all been smoothed over in the interests of political correctness and the avoidance in the opera of even the slightest suspicion of controversy.
That said, baritone Thomas Maglioranza (who plays Mackay) does a sterling job with the thin material that he is given, impressing with his conviction. If his character is flat, then the rest are flatter still (if that is possible), and the strong cast of Asian opera talent is unable to shine.
The relationship between Mackay and his wife (soprano Chen Mei-ling), a shadowy figure in the history books and an opening for the show’s creators to give their imagination free rein, never really goes beyond idolatry of the great man.
Director Lukas Hemleb must be congratulated for his very creative stage design, using a series of concentric rectangles that form a series of independently articulated platforms and give the stage enormous dynamism. The use of projections, however, was not as successful. Clearly intended to inject an element of historical realism into the show, for the most part they managed to be little more than a distraction. Images of Mackay writing home, one of the many clumsy devices used to reveal the mind of the protagonist and move the story forward, served to cover changes to the set, but I found the fact that he seemed to be using a felt-tipped pen unreasonably annoying.
The opera, which was sung in English and Taiwanese, had subtitles in both Chinese and English. While the presence of English subtitles was definitely welcome, they would have benefited from editing, or at least proofreading, to avoid the numerous typos and basic grammatical mistakes that are unacceptable in such a high-profile international production.
While the production overall showed a high level of proficiency from the performers and the technical staff, as a work of art it didn’t go much beyond the realm of historical propaganda. One couldn’t help feeling sad at how much effort had been lavished on the presentation of a chapter from a junior high school history text. Even the exact amount of money that Mackay raised in Canada for the creation of the Tamsui Oxford College (牛津學堂) is laboriously brought up.
Looked at in the context of the many experimental operas that have been produced in recent years, one can see that the money and the high level support for Mackay — The Black Bearded Bible Man has certainly paid off in the quality of the presentation. What is still missing is a creative sensibility to direct these resources to make something more satisfying than a bald narrative of a worthy life.
Meanwhile, at the German Cultural Center on Tuesday, three times as many people showed up for jazz saxophonist Tony Lakatos as there were seats. He was in concert with three Taipei residents, Chris Stiles (piano), Martijin Vanbuel (bass) and Ed Schaefer (drums). Not sure what to make of the large turnout, or indeed of the show, I consulted some Taiwanese jazz musicians in the audience. Pianist Nathan Tu (杜迺迪) said that Lakatos’s style was essentially bebop, and that the auditorium and its acoustics were ideal for this kind of lineup.
“His technique is intuitive and unhesitating,” said trumpeter Rita Chao (趙彥婷). “His flow of musical ideas is remarkable, and his articulation superb.”
Fellow saxophonist Mark Chen (陳侯杰) found his playing smooth, and appreciated the way he spelled out his chords clearly and exactly. His tonal color was admirable, he said.
Lakatos told me he was on his way to Japan where he’d played more times than he could remember, but that this was his first visit here. His reception, though, suggests he’ll be back again soon.
I left marveling at what the center achieves. Today it was jazz, and last time it was 19th-century German lieder. I’ve heard a cappella and Bavarian zither, and everything attracts a sizeable audience, though rarely as big as Tuesday’s. There are art exhibitions too. No other foreign representative office in Taiwan appears to do anything remotely comparable.
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